


With Your Shield or On It

by SensationalSunburst



Series: With Your Shield or On It [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: Neil could remember how confused he was when he found Andrew’s protective wards on everything and everyone except himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I decided to try dabbling in a different style this time? I usually stick to past tense, but I've seen lots of really, really good work with present tense so I decided to give it and magical realism a try!  
> Thank you so much for going on this experimental adventure with me!

He told them that he could tell the twins apart based on their visible opinions on Exy.

That was a lie.

It was because Aaron was covered head to toe in bright, _powerful_ protection wards. They were layered onto his skin and his clothes. They expanded, sharp and geometric and deep, around his hands, up to his wrists and disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt. When Neil had climbed into the fierce black sports car, he could see the wards flickering across its obsidian paint as well.

Andrew, by contrast, was completely, utterly clean.

He could remember how confused he was, when he found Andrew’s protective wards on everything and everyone except himself. Nicky, Aaron, Kevin and Renee were drenched in the telltale, aggressive lines of his protection. They glowed like stars even amongst the steady shine of Andrew’s wards on the team’s gear, the court itself, the Tower, even the exy balls. Aside from the cousins, Renee and Kevin, nobody else had his wards on their skin. Instead, Andrew had somehow managed to work them onto Matt’s wallet and Allison’s purse. They were on Dan’s favorite scrunchie, Wymack’s watch and coffee mug, his shoes. Abby’s bag, her purse, even her phone.

Anything Andrew could conceivably get his hands on bared his wards.

Coach’s entire apartment, Abby’s house.

Bee’s office shined bright enough that Neil winced when he first stepped foot inside.

On his runs through campus, Neil could spot countless other’s wards dotted along sidewalks and benches, countertops and seats, but the brilliant brutality of Andrew’s protection always drew his eye.

Andrew had made hundreds, _thousands,_ of wards that flickered and hummed when he grew near, even on the people and objects he claimed so casually to hate.

* * *

 Wymack’s Sight was different than Neil’s. Wymack could see Connections; threads of a thousand different colors and thickness and texture.

“You can see them though, can’t you.” Wymack said, smirking, “Andrew’s wards.”

“Can you?” Neil asked.

“I can only Feel them,” Wymack said, “Nobody else on the team can See them, I don’t think they can Feel them either. Sight like yours… that’s rare, valuable.”

“I know.” Neil said, and watched as Wymack traced a thread that he couldn’t see with the tip of his finger. One he knew was connecting them, but with a funny little smile, Wymack ran his finger over seemingly empty air, flicking a different string that ran from the center of Neil's chest and straight out the door.

* * *

 

When Seth dies, Neil’s first thought is that he hadn’t been wearing his warded jacket.

* * *

 

Andrew does not protect himself, and Neil wonders if it would have done anything to help in the second between opening the bedroom door and Aaron taking his racquet to Drake’s skull. When Andrew turns his eyes to Aaron, the wards across his brother’s skin flare to life, stunningly bright, and when Andrew releases him, there’s a new ward burned into the blood soaked fabric of his shirt.

* * *

 

There are wards in the Nest, Neil notices. Great swirling sigils physically carved into the floor, the court door handles, bed frames and handcuffs. He never figures out what they’re supposed to do, as they clearly aren’t meant for protection.

* * *

 

Andrew kisses him. Andrew kisses him. Andrew kisses him.

And when he goes to take a shower, he catches a flash of light as he turns in the mirror.

A ward, as big as his hand, etched into back of his neck.

* * *

 

When the countdown begins, he seriously considers carving the protective lines from his skin, if only to keep Andrew from thinking his wards are ineffective. They work, but nothing could stop what’s coming for him. Lola’s gift is the destruction of wards, dismantling charmed security systems and safety nets. Gleefully destroying the very concept of safety for the Butcher’s victims. There was nothing, his father used to say, scarier than the _anticipation._ He said that they knew when the wards were destroyed, they felt the snap-back of the energy as it returned to the caster. And when the blow-back took them to their knees they knew what was coming.

* * *

 

In the end, Lola starts with the tiny starburst like ward that Andrew had pressed over the ‘4’ tattoo on his cheek. They’d torn away his bag and his gear and he’d held onto the vivid glow of them, flaring red and yellow and white in warning, for as long as he’d been able. The pain of the magic burning away is almost as bad the dashboard lighter itself and he prays to whoever would listen that Andrew cannot, in fact, feel it. She moves to charmed knives and tears apart the overlapping markers on his arms and hands.  

His father can’t See the wards, but that is Nathanial’s only blessing in that basement.

* * *

 

Later, with his arms wrapped in trashbags, he gets to watch as Andrew takes stock of the wards still intact on the patchwork mess of his torso. When he presses his lips to Andrew’s neck, he wishes he could form his own wards. Wishes he could cover the scars on Andrew’s forearms with his own stamp of protection. He wants to do more than come back for him, but for now, he figures he’ll just have to settle for drawing out those delicious little tremors from Andrew’s steel spine.

* * *

 

On the roof, Andrew breaths out a spiral of smoke. It would be a normal night, except that he is centimeters from Neil, positioned between him and the edge of the roof, and he has to light all of Neil’s cigarettes for him.

“You need to redo them,” Neil says. Andrew slides his eyes to him and quirks and eyebrow.

“My wards.” He continues, wiggling his shoulders to avoid moving his arms. The steady thrum of painkillers in his veins means he can’t really feel them if he doesn’t move too much, so he tries to channel Andrew’s stillness to save himself a little bit of pain.

Andrew turns to look at him fully and Neil shifts under the intensity of his gaze.

“I can See them,” He says. Andrew remains silent so he continues, “Lola- She destroyed them. It’s what she did for my father. She could just cut the magic out of them, or burn it.”

“I hate you.” Andrew snarls, chucking his cigarette over the edge of the tower, “Any other Gifts I should know about?”

“No,” Neil says, extending his arms, “Will you redo them?”

“Yes or no, martyr.”

“Yes.”

Andrew scoots forward, mouth still caught in a sneer and reaches out towards Neil’s extended arms. When his hands are hovering above the fabric of his hoodie, Andrew pauses, then uses both hands to gently peel back the oversized arms of the hoodie, lift Neil’s bandaged arms to his mouth and press a feather light kiss to his bandages. Warmth explodes from the spot his lips brushed, sweeping up like the sunrise and when it fades, Neil knows that there is a new ward waiting beneath the bandages, waiting to be unwrapped.

* * *

 

At the cabin, Aaron lashes out, and they both light up like Christmas trees, twin wards flickering and ultimately cancelling each other out. Just as well, considering when Andrew sweeps in, Aaron’s wards go surprisingly, damningly, dark.

* * *

 

The court is a technicolor light show during their game against the Ravens. As he and Kevin race up the court, he uses the warning flashes to gage the distance between himself and the pursuing defenders. They don’t get checked even once during the game, despite the Raven’s best attempts to take their heads off.

Dan is visibly steaming by the second half, her adrenaline kicking her fiery magic into a frenzy. Overt uses of magic are prohibited on the court so she lets Renee set ice covered hands against her neck during halftime, fuming even as Nicky uses his Voice to hype them all back up.

The buzzer screams a Fox victory, Riko has his racquet held high and Neil doesn’t need to see the angry red and yellow and white glow streaming from under his armor to know he’s in danger. He can’t dodge, he _can’t_ , and he has a moment to be thankful that, at the very least, he was able to see Riko defeated when Andrew appears like the blank faced personification of wrath. The sound of Riko’s screaming is sweet enough even for Andrew’s taste and as his racquet embeds itself into the court floor, an unmovable, unstoppable shield, Neil wishes he could set the sound as his ringtone.

* * *

 

Neil’s wards shine for his entire meeting with Ichirou. From the corner of his eye he can see the interconnecting wards encircling his throat throwing light in the windows overlooking court, along with the surreal reflection of Riko’s body slowly slumping sideways onto his uncle.

When he is released and rejoins the Foxes, the entire room deflates, heavy sighs ripping through the room as Andrew moves to stand beside him.

Together, they survey their piecemeal family and watch as one by one, they glow like the sun.

 


	2. Tangled Threads

The Thread that connected David Wymack and Kayleigh Day was Merino wool, super bulky, and emerald green. The Threads weren’t always tangible, but David liked running his fingers across it, especially when he had Kayleigh asleep against his chest.

Of course, like most things he cared for, it fell apart.

Years later on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, the emerald green thread looped around the middle finger of his left hand pulled painfully tight. It surprised him into dropping his shopping basket to the floor to watch and wince, panic shredding his lungs, as the Thread pulled tighter and tighter and tighter, wool strands straining and thinning until it snapped.

The Thread, a foot long even after she'd left, began to disintegrate, turning ashen and grey as it broke apart and frayed, lifting skyward, before dropping, limp and lifeless, from his finger.

Hours later, he heard the news that confirmed what he already knew.

Kayleigh was dead.

* * *

Andrew Minyard could be Court if he gave enough fucks to actually put in any effort. At first, it confused the hell out of him as to how Andrew could behave so apathetically, yet obviously care. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have made a deal for Aaron and Nicky's acceptance on the team. He wouldn't have beaten the homophobia out of the men that attacked his cousin.

He wouldn't put fucking wards on _everything_ either. Wymack couldn't see them, but could Feel their warm little hum on his wallet after he'd made Andrew return it, on his clipboard, and after Andrew has broken in to his apartment the first time, his fucking travel mug.

If Andrew didn't care, then the Threads tying him to his brother and cousin wouldn't be an inch thick of stormcloud cotton braids. David tried not to interfere too much, even though the frays visible in the Thread between brothers was worrying. Even though the sickly sheen to Nicky's Thread unsettled him. Nicky, at least, had a healthy connection in the form of the deep mustard silk that stretched from his ring finger and off into the distance that only thickened with time.

(When Erik Klause first came to visit and took Nicky off his feet, David couldn't help but smile at the way the silk blew out from a ribbon to a scarf. The German treated David as if he was Nicky's father, calling him 'sir,’ shaking his hand and thanking him for keeping an eye on Nicky. )

* * *

Andrew wandered away from the group at the Christmas banquet and wandered back with a look on his face that belayed nothing but trouble. But there was no fights, no violence; it was actually a rather pleasant evening- until they headed back to the hotel and Kevin Day showed up, panicked and near tears, hand _decimated_ , at his hotel door. To further deepen the mindfuck, the Thread that formed when Wymack agreed to let him in was the exact same color of Kayleigh’s. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind when Abby unwrapped the carnage of his hand is the fact that it was worsted weight yarn, not super bulky.

* * *

The thickness of the frayed, tangled thread wrapped around Neil Josten's wrist made it look like he’s wearing a fringed bangle. That Connection had been deep, long lasting. A parent if David had to guess. If the image of it wrapped around his bony wrist hadn't been so upsetting, David would probably have laughed. But the kid was skittish, suspicious, and so _thin_ that David immediately concluded that he’d kill for him.

Because everything David cares about falls apart, Andrew took the kid to Columbia.  

And then, because everything he cares about falls apart _spectacularly_ he got to watch  Threads form and thicken and wane between Andrew and Neil with the horror of a man watching a train wreck.

* * *

Seth’s Thread went taught in the dead of night. The pain of it woke him from a dead sleep and as he scrambled for his phone, pulling up Allison’s number blind with panic, the Thread gave a tug that brought him to his knees and abruptly snapped. The pearlescent pink and red Thread unraveled first, then faded to pale, lifeless grey. David lowered himself to the floor, put his head in his hands, and waited for the call to confirm what he already knew.

* * *

“David?” Abby asked. Her Thread was a crimson ribbon, threaded through with what David was pretty sure were surgical sutures. It was strange, but not unusual, as Renee’s threads were bright and metallic like razor wire. He took a moment to watch it billow in an intangible breeze, shortening as she stepped closer.

“David? What is it?” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Threads.” He said, “Unexpected Threads.”

Abby moved her eyes over the team as they gathered for the day’s practice and immediately zeroed in on Andrew and Neil. So close they were almost touching, there was some kind of non-verbal discussion taking place. They were angled towards each other, which put the thickness of the Thread between them on display.

David had never seen anything like it.

Usually threads were made of, or looked to be made of fiber of some sort. Andrew and Neil’s however was a thick bronze chain, the center of which was thread through with what may have been obsidian silk.

“Ah.” Abby said, nodding, but the smile on her face meant they’d discuss it further over dinner.

* * *

Neil’s Thread with David began as lace weight Fox orange wool. It varied in color down its length, fading in and out from white to orange and back, but time had thickened it to a worsted weight yarn, bordering on bulky.

David found that, after Evermore, when it was pulled taught every night, he kept a pretty close eye on it.

So, as he helped physically haul his team onto their bus in the middle of a fucking _riot_ it meant that he was checking for their Threads as well.

Eventually, he had two unaccounted for; bright orange and stormcloud grey. The stormcloud grey still had slack in the line and he could tell as it shortened and as people were hurled to the ground like bowling pins that Andrew was on his way back to the bus.

Neil’s Thread yanked together, snapping perfectly straight from each member of the team, and David’s heart stuttered in his chest.

When Andrew threw himself up the stairs, eyes wild, knuckles bleeding and snarled that Neil was _gone_ , he only confirmed what David already knew.

* * *

The next few hours ware a blur of searching, panicked phone calls, dead ends and the ever tightening pull of Neil’s thread. David thanked God that he was the only one who could feel the agony of the Connection during those hours.

Then, a phone call, a location, and he was prying Andrew’s shaking hands from around Kevin’s throat until he gasped out a nightmare so horrible that it could be nothing but true.

* * *

Andrew spotted the fed’s vehicle before David and instantly began to sprint, pulling against their handcuffed hands as if David wasn't even there. David would be lying if he said he was dragged; he ran as fast as his arthritic knees would take him.

And then, before his eyes, he watched his team’s, his _kids’s,_ Threads transform before his eyes.

The rainbow of colors that spanned between them began to glow brilliant white, bright enough that he had to shield his eyes, then one by one, they began popping like lightbulbs. When the light faded, it revealed that, between each other, each and every Thread had turned to what David could only guess was a string of princess cut diamonds, held together with golden strings.

Andrew and Neil’s however?

Gold.

Thick golden rods woven together in impossible ways, stretching from chest to heaving chest.

* * *

Riko Moyiama’s Threads were a dark, ugly red. They looked almost wet where they were wrapped around Kevin’s hand, and along the ankles of the rest of the team, barring Neil, whose Thread with the little monster was knotted somewhere around his chest.

David couldn’t stand the sight of them. He wanted nothing more to slice them off his kids, but he knew that Threads couldn’t be cut with mortal instruments. Which is why, after Neil was taken away by blatant Moriyama henchmen he looked to Riko’s filthy thread. Abby had wrapped her hands around his, watching him watching Neil and Riko’s threads for some hint as to what was happening when without warning, Riko’s Thread went limp as if cut with scissors. Between one blink the next, the thread was grey- no slow dissolution or fading- just crimson and damp to grey and bone dry. When his shoulders dropped in relief, Abby let out a shaky sigh and thumped her forehead against his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Andrew slumping back against the lockers, violence bleeding from his shoulders.

And when Neil came back down, lips split in a vicious grin, he only confirmed what David already knew.

His kids were safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to pop a comment below! 
> 
> A Summary of Gifts
> 
> Neil: Sight (Wards & Enchantments)  
> Andrew: Wards (Protection)  
> Aaron: Enchantments (Offensive)  
> Matt: Constitution (super strength)  
> Dan: Fire  
> Renee: Ice  
> Nicky: Voice (Think like a bard)  
> Allison: Illusion  
> Wymack: Sight (Connection)  
> Abby: Healing  
> Bee: Sight (Emotions)


End file.
